World On Fire
by rippingbutterflywings
Summary: One-shot. Clary Fray dreams of something bad happening for a week, but she chooses to ignore it. Was it the right choice? No. Now, she needs to watch as many people die on 9/11-including the ones she loves. All-human.


**Hi guys! This is my way of procrastinating. I must get back to studying now. I wrote this because I was inspired by a post Meg Cabot wrote—she writes one every year—about what her experience was the day of the Twin Towers incident. I cried. So much. So, if you've read the post, then you might have an idea of how this ends. If you haven't, then Google it after you read this, because it's beautiful. I was really young when this happened—really young. So I don't remember much, except everyone in my family cried a lot. So, to all of you who lost a loved one that day: I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I just hope nothing like that ever happens again.**

**Anyway, I hope you like this one-shot.**

**Review? :)**

It was the nightmare again.  
>When Clary Fray finally woke up, panting, she realized it was a bit past eight. <em>Damn, <em>she thought. _I must've overslept. _She looked at her clock. It was September 11, 2001. Her boss was going to kill her. Why hadn't Jace called her to wake her up? She was pissed—beyond pissed. She was an hour late. _I might as well just call and fake a cold, _she thought, then walked over to the kitchen and picked up her phone.

"Ms. Fray," her boss said by phone. He had her phone memorized. Crap. "Why aren't you here?"

Clary faked a cough. "I'm sick." She prayed she sounded convincing. The truth was, the nightmare still bothered her. She'd been having it nonstop for a week, for no reason. It shouldn't have bothered her after so long, but it did.

Her boss sighed. "Fine, then. You won't get paid for today," he warned.

Clary fake-coughed again, then moaned. "Okay. See you tomorrow." She hung up before her boss could utter another word. She walked to the TV, satisfied, and turned it on. Her favorite TV show was playing. She smiled and looked outside. It was a warm, sunny day in New York City. She wished Jace was there with her, and not at work, instead.

The Twin Towers stared back at her. It was such a familiar view, all of it, and it made her smile. She walked back to the kitchen and started cooking some eggs and bacon. For some reason, she felt hungry.

When she was done, she served her breakfast on a plate and went to sit on the couch, sighing happily. Nothing would happen. It was just a stupid dream.

"Oh, my God," someone said on TV. Clary frowned when she noticed her TV show was gone. Replacing it was the local news. Simon Lewis, her friend and news reporter, looked terrified. Clary inched forward to the TV.

Why was he so terrified? What was happening?

Clary gazed out the window.

That was when she saw the spoke. With a hand over her mouth, she looked back at the TV.

"A plane has just hit one of the towers on the World Trade Center." Simon looked pained.

Clary stifled a scream. It was like everything was coming to get her at once. Which tower? Was it the one—_No, _she thought. _It can't be. Please._

Why would a plane hit the towers? They were gigantic. Was the pilot drunk? How could they let a pilot be drunk?

Jace. She needed to call Jace. She ran to the kitchen, picked up the phone, and called Jace.

No answer.

She wanted to scream, kick, cry—she wanted to do anything. But she couldn't, because Jace worked in those towers, and she felt like she was going to die.

The phone rang suddenly, startling her. She was shaking, and all she could think about was Jace. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Clary!" Isabelle exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're okay. How's Jace? Is he—"

"I don't know," Clary said. "Please come over."

Izzy lived a block from Clary's apartment building. Fifteen minutes later, Clary heard a knock, and she ran to open it. She knew it wasn't Jace. Isabelle stood there, crying. Her brother was working with Jace, and so were her parents. Max was in High School, one far away from the towers. But Jace.

"Come on in," Clary said. "I'm—I'm watching the news."

Isabelle hugged her. What else would she do? They'd been friends for six years, since before they moved in and before Isabelle got married.

"Oh God," Simon said on the TV, looking a little sick. Isabelle cried out, relieved that her husband was okay. But why had he said "Oh God" all of a sudden?

They saw it at the same time.

The other side of the same tower—the side that hadn't been hit—exploded all of a sudden.

Clary covered her mouth with her hand again, but the sobs and the tears wouldn't stop coming. Because there was no point in denying the obvious.

_Jace is dead._

She calmed down after a few minutes, because she had to, because her friend was telling her that she wasn't the only one and that there was hope.

"Why would there be two drunken pilots?" Clary asked. "I don't understand." She shook her head.

Isabelle shook her head at Clary. "They're doing this on purpose, Clary."

"Why?"

Simon said, "Jesus Christ," all of a sudden. His voice cracked. He was crying. "Another plane has hit the World Trade Center. And we're getting reports that another plane just hit the Pentagon."

That was when Clary lost it.

She started screaming and crying, yelling at Izzy to stop calming her down and do something, because Jace was there—in one of the towers, and he needed to come out. Alec was there, too, she said. That made Izzy cry, too. It was weird, because Izzy rarely cried, but there they were, crying because the people they loved were in there, and no one knew if they were alive or dead.

They looked outside, through Clary's windows. The towers weren't far away from the apartment building. It scared them both, but everything else was so terrifying, they didn't dare leave.

They saw people jumping out of the towers. Firemen were on their way, with ambulances and volunteers.

"I need to call Max," Isabelle said.

"I'll do it," Clary said. "Keep an eye out for anyone familiar." It was a stupid thing to say. But it was all she could say.

Isabelle nodded, and Clary made her way into the kitchen again. She picked up her phone and dialed Max's cell phone.

He didn't answer. She dialed again. Then she heard him talk, faintly. "Hello?" He'd been crying.

"Max!" Clary exclaimed. "Are you okay? Oh, God. Are you okay?"

"In school," Max said. "I'm fine. What about my brothers and Izzy?"

"They—Izzy's here," Clary said. "We haven't heard about Jace or Alec."

"Let me know when you do," Max said, and then he hung up.

Clary sighed and walked back to the living room. "He's fine." Outside, though, everything was a mess. The towers were crashing down. People were running through the streets. People were giving stuff away—which wasn't necessarily bad, but it was a sign that everything else was falling down. It was when they truly realized that nothing would ever be the same.

Someone knocked on the door. Clary walked over to it. Maia stood there, crying her eyes out. "He's gone," she said, her voice cracking. "Jordan. He—he was helping, and then he got trapped."

Clary hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry."

But the girl wouldn't stop crying, and that made Clary cry more. She didn't wanna be in pain. They were supposed to be together, Clary and Jace. They were good together. Great, even. They fought, yeah, but it went beyond that. They had so much more than a simple relationship, because once upon a time, they thought they were siblings. But they weren't.

The door was still open when Alec came in.

The world stopped.

Jace wasn't there.

Alec came in and hugged them all, including Maia.

He looked at Clary. "Jace is with Magnus."

For a second, she thought Magnus might be dead. But then she remembered: he healed. Jace was okay.

"He's alive?"

Alec nodded. "Yes."

They all hugged each other, sharing tears of everything. Jace was horribly injured. He'd have scars for life. But Clary didn't care. He was beautiful, alive, and hers. 


End file.
